under a false name; you! who during the years have never taken a step
to try and find out what had become of me; you! who have hunted my son
as though you were a sleuthhound; you! who have dragged him to prison.
God forgive you! Tell me, why did you do it?"

There seemed no logical sequence between her last cry and the words
which had preceded it. She was a creature of passion, and seemed
incapable of thinking coherently.

"Let me sit down," he said presently. "I think perhaps if I do I may
be able to see more clearly. At present I hardly know where I am, and
my mind is almost a blank; but, my God, what a blank!"

The woman looked at him grimly. "Yes, you are suffering," she said.
"That's what I meant. No, I'm not going to do you any bodily harm. I
needn't do that. I needn't do anything to punish you except to tell
the truth!"

Judge Bolitho sat down in an arm-chair which, had been placed close to
the fire and tried to understand what he had heard. He had no doubt
about the truth of everything. It was impossible to fail to recognise
the woman who stood before him--the very incarnation of hatred and
vengeance. He knew by the look in her eyes of what she felt concerning
him. There was no suggestion of tenderness in her face, no thought of
pity in her heart. Well, it was no wonder. The secret which he had
hidden for so long could no longer remain a secret, and his name, the
name of which he had been so proud, would be blackened before all the
world! How long he sat in the chair, with bowed head and aching brain,
trying to understand, he did not know, but presently he was drawn to
look at her. He had no thought of denying what he had done. It had
never entered his mind. He had made no defence; that did not come
within the realm of his calculation. He was simply stunned by what he
had heard, by the revelation which had shaken his life to the very
foundations. But presently he was led to look at her, to study her
features, and as he did so he called to mind the face of the young girl
whose heart he had won a quarter of a century before. Yes, she was
beautiful still, even although her face was drawn and haggard and the
hair which he remembered so well was lustreless. It needed but
happiness to bring back all the winsomeness of her girlish
days--happiness! Yes, he had loved her, and he had promised to cherish
her. He knew he had taken her to wife as truly as if their marriage
had been attended by al